Mrs. Vale's Secret

8

"Welcome to Olive's Boutique. You must be Ms. Rousseau," smiled the young lady behind the reception desk.

Holly hesitated. She was still uncertain as to how this could be a dress shop. Located on the 39th floor of the Petersen Building, its lobby resembled that of Roberts and Elkins, P.C., the law firm across the hall. Furthermore, there wasn't a single garment on display.

"Yes, I'm Juliet Rousseau," Holly said, using the fictional name that Lewis had provided to her. "How did you know who I was?" Holly inquired casually, hoping that the question did not reveal her nervousness.

The receptionist flashed a polite smile. "Oh, we're not open to the public - we see clients by appointment only."

"Yes, of course," Holly nodded, trying to mask her unfamiliarity with the workings of such businesses.

The woman rose up from behind the desk. "Please, follow me," she said, starting down a long, curved hallway.

Holly trailed behind her, dismayed by the realization that this visit to Olive's brought her one step closer to betraying her fiancé. Since her meeting with Lewis, Holly had surrendered hope that something, or someone, would free her from his trap. And so, she had reluctantly kept the appointment that Lewis had scheduled at William's request. William, she had learned, was the name of the man she was to meet at the Lehigh Hotel next week. And he, through Lewis, asked that she wear an evening gown for their encounter.

She wondered again what type of man he was. Undoubtedly cruel, she thought. Holly shuddered at the possibility that he might be the pervert that had been with Amy that afternoon at the hotel.

"Cassandra will be with you in a moment," the receptionist said cheerily upon reaching a set of French doors at the end of the hall. Pulling them open with a flourish, she motioned for Holly to enter. "After you, Ms. Rousseau."

Holly gazed in astonishment at the large, semi-circular room lying beyond the doors. A massive, glass chandelier hung from the tall ceiling, and the walls were entirely covered with huge mirrors. A white couch, flanked on each side by dark blue chairs, was placed at the far end of the room. In front of the couch rested a large glass coffee table, supporting two large binders stuffed with papers and photographs. What appeared to be a fashion runway emerged from a large, curtained door at one end of the room and ended directly in front of the couch and chairs.

Holly heard the click of high heels on the marble floor. She turned to see a tall, voluptuous woman, probably in her early thirties, striding toward her. A tight, red business suit strained against the flare of her wide hips and plump breasts. Her hair was long, lustrous and utterly black.

"Ms. Rousseau, what a pleasure to meet you," said the woman, offering her hand to Holly. "My name is Cassandra. I'll be assisting you today." Her dark, brown eyes danced.

Holly looked at her squarely. "Call me Juliet," she replied, pleased that she was able to say the name with such confidence. It became easier with each repetition, she noted.

"Well, Juliet," Cassandra continued, the white of her smile contrasting with her olive complexion, "we are going to find you a fabulous gown for your special evening. What was the occasion again?" she probed.

"Our anniversary," Holly croaked, her throat suddenly dry. Lewis had promised her that the staff at Olive's would not know of the arrangement, but she was still apprehensive. How could she trust him when he was the instrument of what would, in effect, be a rape?

"Ah, yes, I remember now," said Cassandra. "Your husband's name is William, correct?"

Holly nodded.

"Well, he has generously supplied us with several suggestions," she continued, glancing down at a note card. "I can tell you this, Juliet," Cassandra whispered, running her eyes slowly over Holly's body. "He certainly has exquisite taste."

Holly blushed as Cassandra gently took hold of her elbow, and guided her to the couch. As Holly sunk into the soft, deep cushions, the dark curtain at the mouth of the runway whooshed open, and a petite young woman breezed onto the elevated path. A long, black evening gown clung to her small frame, and a dramatic slit in its side flashed her long, bare leg as she began to strut down the runway.

"Emily will be our model today," remarked Cassandra, watching with approval as the girl slowly turned her back to them. The gown was cut to reveal virtually all of Emily's back, with the flimsy trail of fabric resuming just above the gentle curve of her bottom. "This is Versace," Cassandra noted.

"It's beautiful," answered Holly, as Emily resumed walking toward them. Holly returned the model's smile, noticing the girl's smallish, upturned breasts jiggle with each dig of her heel into the catwalk.

"She'll show several dresses today," said Cassandra. "Decide on the one you'd like, try it on, and we'll take all of the necessary measurements. Your husband has already made the financial arrangements, so you can relax."

Emily halted her march upon reaching the end the runway. She then slightly lifted the hem of her gown, uncovering the impressively tall heels beneath.

"Oh, thank you for reminding me, Emily," Cassandra said, smiling up at her. She reached up to rest her hand on Emily's slender calf. "We'll also be selecting shoes and a clutch today."

"Wonderful," Holly said, feeling as if she were in a cloud. All of this effort, and expense, for one night? She struggled against feeling flattered, and impressed. "He's forcing himself upon you," she sternly reminded herself, "don't be fooled."

But Holly had never been in a place like Olive's before, and the experience dazzled her. She wondered if Franklin had ever treated Amy to similar such pleasures.

"Oh, how thoughtless of me," frowned Cassandra. "Would you care for a cocktail, or another beverage, while we wait for Emily to display the next gown?"

"Perhaps a glass of white wine," replied Holly, after a moment's consideration.

And as the crystal glass was handed to her, Holly permitted a little smile to warm her face.

9

"Don't cry, don't cry," Holly told herself, but a warm tear rolled disobediently down her cheek nonetheless. She ached for Greg, her fiancé, but it was the middle of the night in Berlin, countless miles away, and he needed his sleep.

Holly clenched her jaw and swallowed hard, and that stopped further tears, at least for the moment. Stepping back from the crooked full-length mirror, she again reviewed her appearance. The fit of the long Versace gown was flawless; it hugged her tiny frame without discomfort. It was the first dress that Emily had modeled for her, and although Cassandra had insisted that she look at others, Holly had known immediately that this would be her favorite. The look of the gown was elegant, but without being dowdy. She turned, trying to catch a glimpse of her bare back, but all she could see were the drab walls of the hotel room. It seemed a shame that such a beautiful dress would be confined to a place as awful as the Leland Hotel.

But she would be free after tonight, Holly reassured herself. In only a few hours' time - during which she would have to do god knows what - she would be rushing out of this miserable place, never to return.

She heard a door slam, and the sound of movement in the room next door. Her heart jumped, and she looked anxiously at the clock. It was eight o'clock in the evening, and William had arrived exactly as promised.

Holly swiftly ran a brush through her long, chestnut hair one final time, glanced again at the mirror, and steadied herself before the door linking her room to William's. She placed her trembling hand on the doorknob, and gave it a slow twist. It was unlocked. Steeling herself, Holly stepped forward and pushed open the door.

The room was dark, lit only by candles dotting the end tables and desk.

"Hello?" she said, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the shadows.

"Good evening, Juliet," a deep, tranquil voice replied from the corner of the room.

Holly swung around. In an upholstered chair sat a man dressed in a tuxedo, his legs crossed. He wore a mask - a narrow strip of black fabric tied around his head. Dark, watchful eyes peered out from holes in the mask, and his short, black hair glinted in the candlelight.

"William?" Holly took a tentative step toward him, teetering slightly on her unusually high heels. He appeared tall, even though he sat unmoving in his chair.

He did not respond; instead, he flicked his eyes over the innocent beauty of her face, and, more deliberately, the delicate swells of her slender body. Holly stood before him, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. After a long silence, William said, "I had hoped that you would pick that gown."

"You have good taste," Holly said, hoping that flattery would ease his demands on her.

"Please, sit down," he said softly.

Holly felt his eyes on her as she turned from him to take a seat on the bed. The lumpy mattress creaked as she sat down, despite her grace and modest weight. Facing him once more, she crossed her legs, and the gown fell open along its lengthy slit. As William's gaze fixed on the smooth skin of her exposed thigh, she fought the urge to yank the dress' black fabric back up over her leg.

"I understand you're to be married soon," he said.

"Yes, in two months." She could see him better now, and was relieved that he was not the wrinkled, overweight slob that she had expected. In fact, his angular jaw and athletic frame appealed to her. But there was still something disturbing about him, something peculiar in his unsmiling manner. "I can't wait," she added nervously.

"Did you find what you were looking for during your earlier visit to the hotel?" There was no hint of accusation in his voice, only curiosity.

Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. "I don't know," Holly admitted, the emergence of a strange memory causing her to trail off. She remembered shopping in a convenience store with her mother, when she was seven years old. Alone in an aisle stuffed with children's trinkets, a shiny, gold-painted locket caught her attention. Scanning both ends of the aisle for potential witnesses, she slipped the small piece of jewelry into her coat pocket, rejoined her mother, and left the store.

Holly had never understood why she had stolen it. However, for months afterward, she carried it secretly with her. And she found, when being scolded or engaged in chores, that its presence gave her comfort. The thrill of its acquisition, and its secrecy, were reliable antidotes for all manner of childhood ills.

"You can call me Holly," she said, trying to change the subject. There was no risk in divulging her real name - Lewis had told her that William knew it already, among other things.

He smiled faintly. "You may find," he replied, rising slowly from his chair, "that a new name grants a certain freedom, Juliet."

Before she could respond, a soft knock sounded at the door.

"You'll want to wear your mask, " he said calmly, motioning to something black on the end table. "I have visitor."

He began walking to the door without waiting for Holly to affix the mask, which she hadn't noticed until then. Scrambling to slip it on, she caught only a glimpse of its outward appearance. The shape resembled the outstretched wings of a raven, a perception strengthened by the glossy, black latex from which it had been fashioned. She hoped that the anonymity it conferred would diminish her growing sense of unease. Lewis hadn't mentioned anyone other than William.

William disappeared, lost in the short hallway leading to the door. Holly heard the door open, and the murmur of a soft, female voice. After a moment, a woman emerged from the darkness, framed by William's tall figure.

"Lauren," he said, placing a large hand on the woman's shoulder, "this is Juliet."

Holly rose from the bed to greet her, relieved that William's guest was not another man. Lauren, too, wore a mask, but it was white and sparkled with silver glitter. The color of the disguise emphasized the bronze of her tan, as did the short, white dress she wore. The smooth, supple skin of her pretty face was trimmed by straight, blonde hair, and Holly could tell that she was young, perhaps still in her late teens.

"Juliet and I were just speaking of her impending wedding, Lauren," William continued, as the two women exchanged smiles.

"Oh, that's so exciting," Lauren replied, and her brown eyes flitted to William before returning back to Juliet. "I just got back from my honeymoon last week - it was so much fun." She kneeled before William's feet, and began untying the laces of his dress shoes, which shone with an immaculate gloss.

"Congratulations," said Holly, making a point not to ask the location. She and Greg couldn't afford a honeymoon, and Holly burned with envy whenever other brides' bragged about Aruba, the Canary Islands, or whatever other tropical destination they were to visit.

Lauren carelessly tossed William's shoes to the side as she stood up. "Juliet, darling," she said, reaching up on her tiptoes to begin tugging at his bow tie, "could you remove our William's suit coat?"

"Oh, baby, I missed you," Lauren whispered to William, engaging him in a deep kiss. "I couldn't wait for tonight to come - thank you so much for this."

Holly stepped forward, uncertainly. She felt like she was in a play where she was the only one who hadn't read the script. Awkwardly, she began pulling on William's black coat as he and Lauren continued to kiss with increasing fervor. Holly watched Lauren's fingers expertly unfasten the buttons on his pressed, white shirt.

"So, you were caught doing something naughty, Juliet?" Lauren asked, stepping back from William to yank open his unbuttoned shirt. A candle's flicker caused a massive diamond perched atop her wedding ring to sparkle.

"Yes, she was," William snapped. "Don't pry, Lauren."

"I was too, a year ago," Lauren continued, ignoring him, "and thank god for that."

Holly felt a worry tugging at her. Lewis had told her that only a single night would be required with William. Had he lied to her?

"Finally," said Lauren, flinging William's shirt across the room. He was now naked from the waist up. "Come here, Juliet," she said, passing a hand admiringly over the twin bulges of his large pectoral muscles.

Holly moved closer, tensing as William's hand slid down her exposed back. "Relax," he said soothingly, his fingers continuing to trace the sweeping curve of her spine.

Lauren gently took Holly's hand, and placed it on his smooth, hairless chest. "It's o.k. to want it, Juliet," she whispered, guiding Holly's stiff fingers along the ridges of chiseled muscles lining his abdomen.

Holly didn't move as William bent over to kiss her, nor did she resist. Instead, she welcomed his soft lips, and allowed her tongue to dance lightly against his. Holly briefly wondered why this was so; she was, after all, crying less than an hour ago.

She couldn't pinpoint a single reason; instead, there were many pieces, all shifting about. One was the freedom granted by a choice already made. She was here, in the Lehigh Hotel with her blackmailer, and there was no turning back. The voices within her that had doubted, resisted, and punished her decision had been ignored, and were now silent.

Then there was her fascination with William, and his world. Where had his money, and wickedness, come from? And although she knew it wasn't true, Holly continually flirted with the thought that something in her appealed to him, something more than the pleasure promised by her body.

Holly's exploration of William's chest became bolder, and hungrier, as did the kisses they shared. Her fingers moved swiftly over him, seeking not only to discover, but also excite.

"You like her, don't you, William?" Lauren asked, lowering herself to her knees, and drawing down the zipper of his trousers.

"Yes," William replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "I do."

Holly watched as Lauren pulled William's pants from him, and then his shorts. Out of shyness, she looked away as his erection sprung into the open. But her hand, resting on his stomach, slid downward. She felt his sparse, curled hairs become denser, heard his breath quicken. Impatiently, Holly's descent continued until her searching fingers felt the velvety skin of his penis, and wrapped around its surprising thickness.

Holly felt Lauren's hand on her thigh. "Put it in my mouth, Juliet," whispered Lauren, wetting her lips.

Holly threaded her fingers through Lauren's golden hair, gently guiding the girl toward William's penis. Her other hand steadied the stiff member at its base, not letting go until its spongy head disappeared into Lauren's mouth.

"Mmm," Lauren moaned, taking in several inches before stopping.

"All of it," William said sternly, and she swiftly pushed his remaining length into her mouth. Lauren started to bob her head back and forth, her lips noisily massaging his sex.

"You're so beautiful, William," Holly remarked, studying his dark, serene features. She felt safe inspecting his face, now that his eyes were closed in pleasure, and his head tilted back. He was younger than she expected - maybe in his thirties - and much more handsome. And his body was impressive; every inch seemed stretched taut by muscle.

Excitement rushed through her. He was there for the taking, Holly told herself, and no one would ever know. She would do it just this once - had to, in fact - and then remain forever true to Greg.

Her will fortified, Holly sunk to her knees, close enough to Lauren to feel the girl's bare shoulder rubbing against her own. Holly extended her hand to caress William's plump scrotum, swaying vigorously as Lauren continued to rapidly slide his penis in and out of her mouth.

"God, what a cock," Lauren gasped, finally pulling away from him. His swollen shaft glistened from her saliva, and Holly watched as it pulsed in excitement.

Eagerly, Holly moved her lips toward it as Lauren stood up to kiss William. She ran her tongue back and forth along the underside of the member's small, flared head, pleased to elicit a moan from him as she did so. She continued down the length of the shaft, the rounded tip of her tongue swirling along its dramatically increasing width. That the object of Holly's affection didn't even closely resemble her fiancé's spurred her arousal, and she felt a familiar tingling between her legs.

At that moment, Lauren's dress dropped to the floor, collecting in a pool around her white, stiletto heels. Holly briefly looked up, surprised that she had been completely naked underneath. As Lauren and William continued to kiss, Holly watched William's finger slip through one of the thin, silver rings dangling from girl's nipples, and slowly pull on it. Her small breast - about the same size as Holly's - stretched outward from her body in response to William's gentle tugging.

"Is she getting that dick nice and fat for me, baby?" Lauren whispered into William's mouth, his hand releasing the nipple ring. Reaching past the twinkling diamond nestled in the girl's belly button, he placed his hand at the juncture of her thighs. She cried out as a finger disappeared inside her, and wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh, god," she whimpered, and Holly could see William's finger rolling the nub of her clitoris back and forth.

Still watching from the corner of her eye, and aching to be touched as Lauren was, Holly dragged the flat of her tongue along the fleshy sack hanging below William's penis. She drew lazy circles across the silky skin, pausing intermittingly to apply soft kisses along the way. "Do you like that, William?" she asked, gently lifting his scrotum to flick her tongue against the flat, sensitive area just before his anus.